Demons and Dragons
by spazenport
Summary: Follows a hunter named Raychel as she fights mythical beasts to save innocent lives.


The left side of the alley didn't budge as he fell hard into it. He clawed at his face as he pawed blindly down the alley, trying to escape her. She'd thrown it into his face, and it burned like acid. He knew better of course, he was Nathan, nest leader of a pack of vampires, and that bitch's holy water wasn't going to stop him.

Skin pealing and bleeding, he could finally see, and he'd made it to the end of the alley. Leaving the alley in blurry eyed darkness, he turned left sharply and started running down the sidewalk. He had reached the corner of the next block when suddenly a denim clad woman with long black dreadlocks hanging down her back appeared. In her hand she held a water balloon.

Nathan dove at her, knowing that his best chance was to take her out fast. The woman tossed the balloon high up into the air and kicked straight out at the vampire. Her army boot took Nathan square in the chest, launching him back and down. The balloon came down right next to the vampire and exploded, splashing holy water all over his left side. He squirmed as it burnt him through his clothing and sizzled his skin worse than a kiss from a flame. The dread-head walked easily around him, pacing to stand by his head. With practiced ease, she took off the canvas, army green backpack she wore and set it down next to his head on the concrete. As he squirmed and yelled in pain, he almost didn't notice the blue pentacle painted on the outside of the bag. Reaching down, she grabbed a handle jutting out of the bag and slid out a recently sharpened machete. In the same fluid motion that pulled it from the bag, she swung it around and in a smooth arc, took Nathan's vampire head cleanly off of his shoulders.

Wiping the blood off on the vampire's clothing, Raychel re-sheathed the machete into the side pocket of her canvas pack. Standing, she pulled her jean jacket out of the infamous army pack, put it on, and procured her cell phone from the left pocket. After hitting a button and waiting through the ringer, she started talking as soon as she heard the other end pick up.

"Vamp's dead, and if you give me another one, then I'll go after you next."

Matt, on the other end of the line, was her contact while moving around the city. Mostly, he listened to the scanners and kept his eyes on the internet to track supernatural entities that had it in for humanity. She'd call him, he'd tell her where and what, she'd find it and stop it. They were hunters and part of the community that kept monsters from doing what monsters do.

On the other end, Matt sounded antsy, "Activities picked up." He paused. "Well, all signs point to yes, anyway. I'm seeing portents all over the board." Matt said with a tone of curiosity.

Raychel had been walking away from the headless former undead cadaver, but she still heard the screams as people discovered the corpse. "Such as?" She pressed.

Matt sighed audibly over the phone. "Such as; storms, temperature drops, dead cattle, and increased occult activity. It's all indicative of demon or demonic activity. The weird thing is that the area covered by this stuff is also experiencing a rash of kidnappings. All young girls between the ages 13 and 15."

Raychel stated the obvious. "That's not very demon-like. They hate drawing attention."

"Right," Matt agreed. "And a bunch of young girls kind of implies virgin sacrifice. That means a big spell."

They were both quiet as the concept rolled around in their minds. Most spells were content with the use of just a little blood for activation. Any spell to require virgins, let alone whatever number was implied by "rash of kidnappings" would be very literally described as Earth shattering.

"Alright," Raychel broke the silence. "Give me the where, and I'll go poke it with a stick."

Raychel had reached where she'd left her very used and demon beaten van when Matt gave her the location of the kidnappings and climbed in. It was cherry red, rusting, and in serious need of a new muffler. Once she had oriented herself, seatbelt and all, Raychel took off aiming for thirty miles west of Cedar Rapids.

The drive gave her time to further assess the situation. Instead of using her excess time as such, she instead listened to her local folk band CD collection.

Raychel reached her destination when she'd pulled into the small town of Keystone. Raychel found a bar pretty quick and parked her van. Before she went in, she grabbed her backpack and, pulling a sock out of her glove compartment, covered up the protruding machete handle. Having satisfied herself by her handiwork, she tossed the sack over her shoulder and sauntered into the bar.

The bar was the usual scene aside from the out of place Chinese Dragon statue over the bar. Other than that, the bar was dim, neon signs, stools, high tables and a few guys who looked like they hadn't seen the sun for a few days.

Walking up to the bar, Raychel ordered a beer from the bartender. He was a big man, about in his mid-forties and in healthy shape.

"2 dollars," he said as he set the beer down. Raychel slid him the money.

"I've got a few questions. Mind making small talk?"

The bartender leaned back on the register across from Raychel and nodded.

"Anyone come through here recently that stood out as kind of odd?"

The bartender shook his head. "Just you."

"Funny," Raychel forced a smile and leaned back in her chair letting her jet black dreads fall behind her shoulders, and shoving her hands into her pockets.

"So, nothing new or strange at all?" As the bartender confirmed this with another shake of his head, she leaned forward again and placed her hands together next to her beer on the bar. She scooped up the beer with her left hand and nodded back. "Thanks anyway."

The bartender nodded and moved to resume collecting glasses or cleaning the counter. Whatever it was he'd hoped to continue, Raychel never discovered. As he stepped away, he stopped as if having hit an invisible wall and turned angrily back towards the bar's newest customer.

Raychel smiled and opened her right palm enough to show what was within. It was your standard ten dollar laser pointer, the base of which rested on the bar while the top protruded slightly from her grip. The bartender was confused until he followed Raychel's gaze to the ceiling. Directly above where he stood, in bright red laser light, was a pentagram with smaller runes surrounding it.

"Devil's trap." Raychel gave as an explanation. "Just a quick little test to see if you're...you." While keeping the laser steady, she reached into her sack and pulled out a bright yellow water pistol with her free hand and trained it on the bartender.

Catching on, the bartender's eyes turned completely black, filling as if with thick tar.

"Normally," Raychel continued. "I'd just shout an exorcism rite and end you right here. Can't do that though, can I? I still need questions answered."

To her left, one of the regulars lunged at her. Keeping her eyes fully trained on the bartender, Raychel swung her arm out and pulled the trigger a foot from the second demon's face.

The holy water hit him in the eyes. He fell to the floor screaming. The third, and only other person in the bar, also a demon, was already moving in her direction.

"Besides," she said, letting the laser beam turn off. "You aren't exactly alone."

As the laser shut down, the bartender demon lunged forward. Raychel moved her whole body, swinging her gun arm back around and launched several squirts at the bartender. At the same time, her twisting body brought her right hand around and grabbed the sock that covered her machete.

Continuing with her momentum, Raychel drew the machete and swung it around, connecting with the third demon's right cheek. Raychel quickly jumped back as the three demons recovered. As she gave herself distance, she noted that the third demon's face had already healed. Reacting accordingly, she aimed the water pistol at the machete blade and doused it.

The bartender climbed over the bar and joined his comrades as they moved to encircle her. Moving as slowly as they were, Raychel hoped to maybe get some more information.

"So, fella's, why the virgin kidnappings? That's kind of like putting up a large neon sign that says 'Black Magic Here.' I'm surprised that I'm the only hunter here." She rotated slowly as they moved around her, keeping her eyes on all three of them.

The bartender thrust out his hand and Raychel could feel as the energy rushed over her like a tidal wave. Most people would have been swept away in that wave, killed by the surge of force. Raychel stood, an island in the storm.

Slowly, she reached up and pulled her collar down about three inches. Hidden in a large tattoo, but high and centered on her collarbone was another pentagram of protection. This one was very unlike the rune enshrined laser one, and instead much simpler. The same pentagram was on her green canvas pack.

"I'm protected." He released her shirt collar and she resumed a more prepared stance. "Again," she growled, "Virgins?"

The bartender, obviously the one in charge, spoke up. "They are for the Master."  
"For what?" Raychel demanded.

"The Master." The bartender gave in freely, "To resurrect his kin."

Raychel's confusion was evident on her face. "By Master, I assume you're just referring to the Lord of Darkness himself? Why can't you guys ever come up with a more definable name?"  
All three demons laughed.

All three demons lunged.

Raychel raised the holy water squirt gun to the bartender and the demon immediately to her left. Once again carrying her whole body into the spin, she brought the machete around and through the neck of the third demon.

As the head and the body hit the ground at separate times, the three remaining survivors watched as the neck sizzled from the holy water. As the demon couldn't reattach the head, the dark spirit exploded from the decapitated mouth in voluminous black smoke and an inhuman roar.

Raychel turned to the other two demons. "Did you guys know that would happen?"

The bartender demon started to shake his head before he was cut off, literally, by the swinging blade of Raychel's machete. A steady stream of holy water erupted from the pistol and kept the head severed as dark smoke erupted and sizzled from the neck.

This was all way too fast for the distracted final demon, who leapt back barely in time to avoid the return swing of the machete. Stumbling over his own feet, the demon turned and started towards the door. Before he could get far, Raychel kicked out into the back of his knee, and pounced on his back. Using gravity combined with her own momentum, Raychel drove the machete deep into the falling demon's back. As they hit the floor, she felt the blade drive inches deep into the floor as his body went horizontal.

Knowing he had nowhere else to go, the final demon opened his mouth and started to pour out in the same black smoke that Raychel had seen twice previously. Before he could get too far, Raychel had palmed the laser pointer into her hand again and spared no time encompassing his head in the beam. The glowing red pentagram of a Devil's Trap halted the gaseous form of the demon as if it had been trapped in a jar. Once again seeing that it had nowhere else to go, the demon returned to the corpse and continued to squirm and fight to get up.

Leaning on the blade, Raychel allowed for a loud scream to erupt from the corpse before she let up. "Who's the Master?"

"Won't tell, Hunter!"

Raychel leaned on the blade, putting a twist on it. As the demon screamed, he noticed that the laser never let up, never gave an opening for him to attempt escape again.

"You'll tell, or I'll send you back into the pit, asshole." Raychel's response was quiet, calm, and as steady as the hand holding the laser. Leaning hard on the blade again, "What's the deal with the virgins?"

Instead of answering, he let out a large howl and thrust against her weight. Light though she was, the blade and the laser were enough to keep him from getting up. He leapt up again, and this time, Raychel cursed, let out a large sigh, and dropped the laser at the same time as the bounce. Before it hit the floor, the demon's gaseous existence leapt from the corpse and hit the ceiling.

Standing up, Raychel unsheathed the machete from body and retrieved her laser pointer and backpack before making an obvious move back towards her van. Getting into the van, she took the road back the way that she'd come. Out of town.

It wasn't an hour later that, crouched in the bushes, Raychel watched the demon slither back into the corpse. He stood slowly, as if he'd never received a gaping hole in his back. He paused as he started to leave, looking around, as if he could sense her watching through the window. He couldn't, of course, she'd done an impressive job of making it look like she left. Even going as far as to sprint back as quickly as she could. It was so impressive, even she was surprised she had managed to pull it off.

Ignoring the feeling that had caused him to halt his exit, the demon headed outside and started jogging down the street of Keystone at a slightly more than human pace. Able to keep a steady, slightly more human pace, Raychel followed. The direction indicated by his taking off only confirmed what Raychel had originally suspected.

The Master was keeping house in the abandoned prison. The cells would be the perfect place to house the virgins while the distance from town would keep the screaming unheard.

The speed with which the demon moved kept him well out of earshot and Raychel didn't work at keeping quiet so much as moving fast. Staying along the side of the road, she leapt branches and dove between trees to stay out of sight. After what felt like thirty minutes later, but was actually much closer to ten, Raychel could see the two story Keystone Correctional Facility. Slowing down, she moved quietly and watched as the demon entered through the double doors at the front.

Surrounded by dark as it was, the Correctional Facility gave off that eerie haunted house vibe that, in Raychel's line of work, meant that it probably was. The walls were still very solid looking even with the untended garden starting to climb the wall. The aged structure showed no clue as to anyone having entered in the last twenty years, and no light left the windows. Aside from the demon entering the prison, Raychel had no reason to suspect anything off about the site.

Approaching the double doors, Raychel knelt and set her sack on the ground. Reaching in, she pulled out a gun wrapped in a chest holster. Buckling it on, she took on the look of a televised beat cop. The large 9mm Glock 17 in the black leather holster was something she didn't normally use. It wasn't for any dislike of guns, as a matter of fact, it was quite empowering to hold it. Emboldening her against the darkness, giving her a stronger grasp of control over the situations that she might not be able to keep controlled. Instead, it was just the science, or lack of magic, about it that made it more or less useless in her world as a hunter. The usual metals used in bullet manufacture rarely have stopping power against the supernatural.

With Matt's help, she'd managed to acquire special clips of ammo for this gun. The price and rarity of the bullets meant that she had to save them for when it was absolutely necessary. The metal in the bullets was a combination iron and silver with a cross carved into each one. Designed with a thick cap of salt on the front the bullets were meant to break up and imbed into whatever absorbed the impact of the bullet. Hit anything with these 9mm bullets and if it didn't die, it'll wish it had.

Having spent the reserves of the water pistol on her last bout, Raychel tossed it back into the sack. Taking a shoelace from the sack next, she tied it to her wrist and then the handle of the machete. Finally, Raychel packed a box of chalk into her pants pocket and stood up, leaving the sack just to the left of the doorway, blended in with the vines.

Gun holstered, machete at the ready, Raychel edged her way into the dark prison.

The halls were just as dark as outside, and therefore almost impossible to navigate. Machete in her left hand, Raychel slid her right hand across the same side wall as she moved through the prison. Taking her turns carefully, she moved on instinct alone, hoping that she was heading in the correct direction. It wasn't long before she'd started finding areas slightly more lit than previously encountered. Finally, after a while of slow going, she came across the first set of cells that offered any sort of answers.

She'd found the virgins. In a series of six cells there were thirteen kidnapped children. Each cell held only two people each, some young male teens, others young female teens. Each cell except for the last one. The final cell held two young girls, just barely into their teens, if at all, the shortest of which sat huddled in the corner of the cell. She held a baby. Between the dim light and the cell door, Raychel couldn't define the gender of the infant, and didn't care. She needed to get them out of here.

Leaning in closely to the cage with the three victims in it, Raychel asked quietly. "Where?"

The sound of her voice made them jump, but the baby stayed silent. The only indication that it was still alive was that its arm kept moving against the young lady. After the initial jump, they two young girls both pointed in unison further down the hall.

She stood slowly, not wanting to make them jump again, and gripped her machete tighter as she turned the direction they had indicated. As she did so, the lights turned on, individually and in turn all down the hall. The bright light, in contrast to the previously almost complete darkness, caused her to flinch. Her eyes adjusted and she recognized the demon from the bar standing in the doorway to the next area. As her eyes continued to adjust, she recognized that he was now covered in sigils that curled all around his arms and legs and face, shining a bright red-orange, like coals that had just been fanned.

Raychel didn't shrug at the new changes. Instead, she ran at the new arrival. Getting within striking distance of the newly neon demon, Raychel swung the machete at about neck height. She moved with a fluid speed that any untrained eye would assume was supernatural. Even at the speeds she was moving in, the demon flared brightly before reaching up and catching the blade in his open palm. Before Raychel could express her shock, his other hand rose up and struck out, catching her in the face hard enough to throw her the full distance that she'd traveled for the strike. Landing on her back, she rolled and came back up. As she did so, she touched her nose. Her hand came into view covered in blood.

He laughed, nothing loud so much as quiet and knowing. "The Master has gifted me with her breath." He spread his arms, glowing brighter. "I move with the speed of the living flame."

Raychel stood and slowly drew the pistol into her left hand. Pistol and machete armed, she strode slowly back towards her prey.

"When you were a dumbass demon, I kicked your ass." She swung the machete at his neck again, he made the same moves, and when he went for the punch, she ducked it, spinning in a tight arc that brought the blade in quickly towards the demon's chest. Point first she came within a hair's width of piercing his breast before his swift movements smacked the blade aside again. Once again, he followed it with a fist. This time it came down at her head.

Raychel kept her momentum going and rolled her shoulder into his chest, driving him backwards and avoiding the second swing.

As her shoulder, bare because of the white sleeveless shirt she wore, burned as it touched the demon. She could feel his sigils flare as she touched them, and heard the sizzle as her flesh took the heat. Ignoring the pain, Raychel kept pushing until she felt the tell-tale thud of hitting a wall. Stepping back, she pulled back and lunged forward for another stab. Once again he slapped the blade aside.

This time, Raychel took the momentum and let her arm absorb it, not spinning but instead bringing the pistol up and into the chin of the demon. "Glowy arms doesn't change the fact that you're still a dumbass."

She pulled the trigger twice and watched as his head exploded up and onto the walls.

As if nothing happened, she searched the body, trying to find keys. She took note that as she did she could see the sigils dim down until they didn't glow anymore.

Finding nothing, she stood and went back to the cell with the infant.

"I'll be back," she said loud enough for all the virgins to hear. "Be calm, and be quiet. It'll all be ok."

She headed out the door that the demon had come from.

Raychel didn't have far to go, instead of a prison, the doorway opened out into a large atrium that wasn't part of the original prison design. The high vaulted walls lead up to a glass ceiling that showed a clear night sky. The stars were the only lighting in the entire room.

At it's center stood a short blonde woman. Her hair was cut short and spiked up. She was small but had a look of being ready to pounce. She wore short sleeves and khaki pants and her arms and face were covered with intricate tattoos. When she looked at Raychel, her eyes glowed like the sigils that had been carved into the demon.

"Back down, hunter. You're out of your depth."

Raychel shook her head and reholstered the pistol. "It took me a while to piece this all together, but the demon's sunburn gave it away." She started twirling the machete around on the end of the rope that tied it to her arm. "You're a dragon right?"

The dragon nodded. "Trapped in this," she waved disgustedly at herself, "form for a very long time."

Raychel returned the nod. "Oh, right, so the virgins are what you need to break out."

The dragon nodded. "My name is Phyllis."

"Phyllis? Really?"

The dragon cocked her head to the side, obviously recognizing the disbelief. "And what nomenclature do you respond to, hunter?"

"Raychel." She was walking back and forth in front of the dragon now. "I can't let you kill those kids. Your comfort isn't worth their deaths."

The dragon gave a slight nod. "I respect your need to protect them. I also see that you lack a full grasp of the pain that this form puts me through. That pain, for those years."

The dragon finally stepped forward, drawing, from seemingly nowhere, a large sword that weighed more than her diminutive form implied it could carry. Arcing it around in several large swoops that were well trained, she asked, "We can dance, or you can leave. Either way, my imprisonment ends."

The sword came down fast, and as it did, the dragon's hands lit up, engulfing the sword in flame. Raychel sidestepped it just barely and brought the machete fast towards Phyllis' side. The dragon swept her arms out as if flapping; the sword swooping out on the right side farthest from Raychel, but the left arm took the hunter in the chest and launched her back and across the atrium. Raychel hit the farthest wall, almost forty feet away.

When Raychel hit, she felt instant bruising. She didn't take the hit well; it was all just too fast. She stood slowly, and as she rose her head Phyllis was right in front of her, the flaming sword coming towards her chest, preparing to pierce her.

Raychel leapt to the side barely in time and caught flame on her side. She patted it out as best she could as she moved. Back pedaling as fast as she could from the dragon, Raychel could feel that she was being played with. The dragon could obviously move very fast, but was only walking towards her slowly as she tried to avoid her.

Raychel decided to throw everything she had at Phyllis. She dove at her, twirling as fast as she could, throwing thrusts and slashes while drawing the pistol again and firing wildly. Every flash of her machete was caught by the flaming sword but managed to propel the dragon backwards. Finally outside of machete range, Raychel fired more directly at the dragon, watching as each bullet was caught on the blade. As she shot, Raychel dropped the machete so that it was caught by her rope and jammed her hand into her pocket. Still shooting she pulled out the laser and aimed it at the dragon.

Phyllis stopped approaching and smiled a smile that held too many teeth. "Pentagrams work on the demons. You'll find that I'm immune to your silly trick."

"Silly trick this, bitch." Raychel pushed the button on the laser and hit Phyllis in the eyes. The dragon didn't expect it and dropped the sword to grasp at her eyes. Her bright orange eyes were dimmed as she slammed them shut and ducked out of the way.

As she spun away from Raychel, the dragon raised her hand and launched a gout of flame in Raychel's direction. Or at least it was the direction of where Raychel had been. The hunter had moved, scooped up the machete and swung it down with all of her strength.

The blade felt almost no resistance as it sliced down through the dragon's neck and ended Phyllis' imprisonment.

Raychel found the keys in Phyllis' pocket. Within minutes the children had all been released and Raychel was on her way back to the van.

"Yeah," she said into her cellphone. "It was a dragon. No, it's done. What's next? Moline? Yeah, it'll take me an hour. Oh, tomorrow? Yeah, I can do it tomorrow."


End file.
